Setting Yourself Up For Sarcasm
by strawberrysunsets
Summary: Harley Quinn knew the Joker long before she became a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. Even before she knew he was the Joker. This is the real story of how they meet and Harley's gradual journey to insanity. Set before & during The Dark Knight. Harley/Joker. Slight Batman/Poison Ivy. Rated T for swearing and possible violence later on. AU
1. Chapter 1

"Is that the last of them?" I call out to my new roommate as I carefully place a heavy box next to her bed.

Poking her head in, she pauses to observe the room. "I think so. I still have a few pots to bring in."

She walks towards me to open the small window by her bed, I grin at her. "You know, to give the room a bit of fresh air and whatnot."

I glance outside through the window, pondering. "I'm so glad you decided to move to Gotham. I was beginning to get lonely, Pam," I pouted at her.

"Me too, I got sick of Seattle and all the people in it," she laughed, turning to hug me. "I needed a fresh start. Anyway, haven't you made any friends yet? You've been here for over a month already."

I thought about it for a second. I really didn't know anyone. I haven't started university yet and my part time job doesn't start until Monday morning. It's a waitressing job for a coffee shop down the road. It's not fancy and it doesn't have flexible hours or high pay, but it's a job. Ive pretty much been doing nothing but unpacking and relaxing the past few weeks.

"Oh, Harls..." She inspects my face. "Don't tell me you've spent the past month sitting at home doing nothing. Come on, we're going out."

Dragging me out of the room, I laugh at her. We are so different personality wise. While I'm at home reading books she will be outdoors, hiking, shopping or having lunch at the nearest park. But it's nice to have someone to take you places every once in a while. We end up going for a walk around town. It's nice to finally get to know some of the city. I haven't been bothered to go for a walk since I got here.

As someone who has been single since high school, I had almost forgotten what it was like to go out every weekend. Almost as if Pam had read my mind, she asks me, "So, you got your eye on any men yet, Harls?"

Honestly, I'm not sure what she wants me to say at this point. "No, not at all."

"What do you say we try a little speed dating?"

"No. Nope. Not happening. Not in a million years."

She pouts at me. "You're so unfair!"

"I just don't want to meet creeps," I explain.

"Fine, I suppose we'll do it the old fashioned way. Don't blame me if we end up 40 years old and unmarried."

Every so often, Pam would drop into a jewellery store or high end restaurant to hand in your resume. Every time, she would get rejected, and leave the store almost in tears.

"No one is hiring, Harley," she cries to me, clutching me into a tight hug. "This is a disaster."

"Don't fret pumpkin, there's a grocer down our street that's hiring -"

"I am not working at a grocer!" She shuddered, almost offended at the suggestion herself.

"Okay," I licked my lips, pondering, "what about the hardware store? There's a florist section," I teased her.

Pam smiled, looking excited. "I'm listening..."

"Um, I've picked up some real nice roses from there... I think they sell herbs too, cactuses mayb-"

"Alright, I'm convinced. I'll drop a resume in first thing tomorrow. I'm super stuffed right now, what do you say we go home, order a pizza and watch a movie?"

I grin from ear to ear. "This is why you're my best friend."

"Oh stop it," she giggles as we start walking home. "You'll make me blush!"

By the time we get back to our apartment, it's dark, windy and freezing cold. Pam's teeth are clattering as we finally make it to our door.

"Isn't it supposed to be Spring?" She asked, clearly irritated.

"I think I might have frostbite," I mumble as I lay on the couch, exhausted.

"Okay," Pam sits on the floor, looking at my collection of movies. "Chucky or a Nightmare on Elms Street?"

I groan. "Do we have to watch a horror film?

Ignoring me, she inserts a DVD. "Chucky it is!"

I've been trying to focus on the movie for the past 15 minutes, but I keep getting distracted by noises on the floor above. I pause the movie and look at Pam.

"You hear that?" I ask her, nervously fiddling with my hands in my lap.

She glances up at the roof, listening.

After a few seconds of silence, she shakes her head. "I don't know what you're -"

CRASH.

Pam practically dives under her blanket.

"What the hell was that?" She cries from underneath. Honestly, it sounded like something heavy and metal had just fallen. Or something heavy had fallen on metal..

"It sounds like it's coming from the fire escape," Pam whispers.

As we stare at each other for a few seconds, she shrugs. "Don't look at me. You started this. Go have a look."

"No I didn't!" I roll my eyes. Typical Pamela. I creep over to the balcony (if you can even call it a balcony) and press my hand up against the window, eying the darkness outside. "I don't see any-"

Suddenly, I see a flash of purple and green jumping down the fire escape, and I fall back in surprise, losing my balance and tumbling to the floor.

"What the-" Pam takes a look outside for herself as she kindly helps me up. I hear more noises outside as Pam yells out, "Oh my god! Is that... The Batman?"

"Bat...man? Pam, have you lost your mind?"

She violently shakes her head as she closes the blinds. "No, no, Harleen. I'm dead serious. I've heard about this guy. He's the hero of Gotham. You know, crime fighter, destroyer of evil?"

After some more bickering between us both, I decide to pull up the blinds, curiously taking over me.

"What are you doing! Don't let them see you!"

I ignore her, watching as Batman is holding a person by the neck on the roof of the apartment next door. He seems to me dangling the man I saw before, in purple and green, over the edge.

"We have to stop him! Look at what he's doing to that guy!" I tell Pam, who is staring at me blankly, her face paler than usual.

"You're crazy, Harley. You know that? That's the Joker. He's EVIL!"

"How do you know?" I ask her.

"What?" she asks me, "You think I didn't do my research before moving here? Did you?"

"Well, no, but -"

"Look!" Pam cuts me off, pointing to where the Batman and Joker once stood. "They're gone," she breathes a long sigh of relief. "Don't worry about it. Let's just go bed, this is too freaky."

I can't help but chuckle during this highly inappropriate situation. "Happy first night in Gotham, Pam."

She smiles back at me as we make our way down the hall, towards our bedrooms. "Thanks, it was a hoot," she winks as she shuts her bedroom door. I hear her say to herself. "Maybe tomorrow will be even more exciting."

God, I hope not.


	2. Chapter 2

It's a new day, I think to myself as I walk into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. "You can do this, Harleen," I mumble to myself as I take the first sip of caffeinated goodness.

"Good morning!" I hear Pamela sing down the hall. I groan. How on earth can she be in such a good mood this early in the morning.

After sniffing the roses she conveniently placed on the coffee table the night before, she glanced up at me. "God, what happened to you last night? You look like you've been hit by a truck."

I nod, slowly, still trying to keep my eyes open. "I found it a bit hard to sleep after, you know, the whole Batboy incident."

"Batman, my love. His name is Batman. Oh! Speaking of attractive, manly men, I was invited to a party yesterday... By a billionaire. How crazy is that?"

"What? You've barely been here a day, how on earth did you get invited to a party?"

"It's called charm, Harley bear. Now come on, we need to find you a dress!"

Okay, I'll admit, dress shopping doesn't sound too bad right now.

As she opens the front door, she instantly screams, dropping my hand as I fall to the floor in shock. Looking up, I notice my neighbour walking down the stairs. I've only seen the man twice before. He lives on the floor above us. As I struggle to stand back up with my cloudy vision, I wonder, surely Pamela wasn't scared off by my neighbour? Sure, he had a few scars. But this is the Narrows, what did she expect?

"Sorry Harley," she mumbles, helping me up as the man passes us, giving us a glare as he leaves.

"What a freak," Pamela whispers as she shakes her head.

"He seems alright... I suppose," I tell her as we walk down the stairs. "I mean, I haven't talked to him but he doesn't seem like a bad guy."

Surprisingly, she doesn't push the subject any further, almost instantly forgetting the incident as we leave the building

Pam squeals. "Ooooh, I forgot to tell you! The party is tonight! We better get going, chop chop!"

Did I mention I love Pam? Whenever I feel awkward, she always finds a way to distract me from the current situation and make me feel better.

This past two hours have been the longest of my life... so far. I had no idea it took Pamela so long to find a dress.

"Babe, this is insane. There are only so many dresses in this store, why is it taking so long?" I groaned, exasperated.

Ignoring me, she holds up two dresses. One is a strapless forest green dress and the other is black with roses winding its way up the side.

"Uh, maybe the green one? I think it will really bring out your -"

Cutting me off, she giggles, "No, these are for you! Choose."

"Black, definitely. The green is more your style."

I try to hide my smile as a take the black dress and walk into the changing rooms. I look in the mirror, suddenly remembering the event occurring on the stairs. I trace my finger across my face from my ear all the way down to the corner of my lips, imagining what it would feel like to have a scar on your face you couldn't hide, no matter how much makeup you would use to cover it.

"Harley? Are you done?" I hear from behind the curtain.

I step out, twirling around to show Pam my dress. "Do you like it?"

She squeals. "Like it? I love it!"

I notice she is in the green strapless dress that I recommended for her. "Miss Pamela Isley, you look stunning!"

"That's it, we're getting these dresses," she says as she pats down the wrinkles in her dress in the mirror. Turning to me, she wags a finger in my face. "No buts! We are going to blow the party away as soon as we walk in!"

As we leave the store, tote bags in hand, I decide to bring up the situation earlier today about our neighbour. "You know, Pam. I really think you should apologise to our neighbour."

Pam just looks at me blankly, as if she has already forgotten about it. "The one with scars?"

"Yeah, I mean, I wouldn't like it if someone screamed when they saw my face. You probably hurt his feelings."

She pouts as me. "He really was scary, Harley."

I barely know the guy and I already feel bad for what Pamela said about him. But mostly, I feel bad for Pamela. It's probably not a good idea to make your neighbour hate you the first day you move in. I'm just hoping he will forgive her.

In just over an hour, the party begins. I feel myself getting more and more nervous. I haven't been to a party since I graduated high school, and this party is going to be quite different. After all, it's being hosted by a billionaire. There better be plenty of champagne. I don't know how I will be able to last being sober at a rich man's party.

Applying my mascara, I can't help but feel the need to apologise to that man - my neighbour - for the way Pamela acted before. I knew she would let her ego get to her and refuse to apologise even if I asked, so I guess it's up to me. As I hear her turn the water on in the shower, I quickly and quietly grab my purse and head out, closing the door as silently as I possibly can.

The problem is, there are two apartments on the top floor, and I have no idea what door to knock on. Eenie meenie minie... Mo! Praying that I have the right door, I knock four time. After about a minute of impatiently waiting, I turn around to try my luck with the other apartment door, when it suddenly swings open, the man with the scars standing above me, menacingly.

"Yes?" He asks, almost in a threatening tone.

"I, uh, j-just, um," Oh god. I'm stuttering. I probably should have rehearsed this beforehand.

"Going someplace fancy?" He asks.

"What? Oh. Yeah. A party."

He clicks his tongue. I half expected him to say something, but now it's just awkward silence. Pam, where are you when I need you.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"What?" He asks, popping the T at the end.

"Sorry for the way my roommate acted earlier. It was out of line for her." Thank GOD that's out of the way, now I'll just quietly walk backwards -

"I'm used to it." There he goes again, popping the T at the end of the sentence. What a strange person. "Get it all the time." Smirking, he slams the door in my face.

I walk back down the stairs. That was most definitely the strangest, more awkward and uncomfortable moments I have ever experienced in my life. Now I definitely need a glass of champagne.


	3. Chapter 3

I have never felt so out of place at a party in all my life. The chandeliers, the heliport, the beautiful women. It was all too much. Pam is quite obviously having the time of her life, chatting up Mr Billionaire Bruce Wayne in the corner. I roll my eyes and skilled my champagne.

"Miss?" An older butler holding a tray kindly offers me another drink. He must have noticed how awkward I look.

Gently replacing my empty glass with the new one, I thank him. The butler smiles softly at me before leaving.

Upon remembering Pam drove me here, I realise that I was going to have to wait for her to leave, I groan loudly. A couple standing near me look at me as if I'm on drugs.

"What?" I snap at them. Oh no. I'm not thinking before I speak. That's a bad sign. I should probably stop drinking.

"HARLEEN!" Pam waves me over.

I grudgingly walk to her, awkwardly smiling at the billionaire standing two feet away from me.

"Harleen, meet. Bruce," Pam nods at him.

"It's nice to meet you Harleen," Bruce shakes my hand, smirking. I spent a few seconds taking in his features. He is ridiculously good looking, with swept back hair and an incredible smile. No wonder why all the girls love him. That, and he's a billionaire.

"Uh, yeah. You too."

"Harleen is my roommate. She's studying her first year of psychology. Isn't that right, Harls?"

Feeling slightly dizzy now. This is not good. "I, uh, yeah."

"Harley?" Pam inspects my face. "Are you feeling okay?"

I nod. "Fine. I'm totally fine."

She shakes her hand as she picks up a glass of bubbly from the butlers tray. "I think you need another drink."

I can't help but laugh as I hug her. "Oh, Red, you are my best friend!"

I can feel Bruce's eyes on me. "Do you, uh, want a minute?"

"No!" I yell at him, my hand in his face. "I'll go talk to people. Or something. You guys, go have fun." I lean over to Pam's ear, who is cringing outwardly, obviously embarrassed. "In his bedroom. HA!"

I don't remember what happened after that. Honestly, I don't think I want to know.

I wake up with a killer hangover the next day. Which wasn't surprising. I mean, what did I expect?

I roll out of my bed and try to stand up with the little strength I have in my legs.

Hitting the snooze button, I take note of the time.

"What. The. Hell." 2PM? I couldn't have slept for fourteen hours straight. That's not right at all. "Pam? Pamela?"

Silence fills my eyes. I walk into the hall towards the kitchen. No one is here. Except, a note is on the kitchen bench.

 _Dear Harleen,_

God, does she have to make letters so... formal?

 _I hope you had fun last night. By the way you slow danced with that cute brunette_ _boy, I know you did!_

Cute brunette boy? Oh lord. I really don't remember anything.

 _Anyway, today I got called in for an interview for the florist job you mentioned to me! Wish me luck Harley bear!_

 _PS. Please go to the store and buy coffee for me_. _I'm in desperate need. Love you!_

I groan. All I really want to do is go back to bed. But, if I don't get coffee for Pamela, she will throw me out my own bedroom window. Grabbing my coat, I head out of the apartment. As expected, today was just as windy and cold as it has been the past few days. Now, it's also raining like Niagara Falls.

Miraculously, I make it to my car without getting drenched. As I turn my windscreen wipers on, I realise: Tomorrow is the day I start work. A week after that, I'm at uni, beginning my psychology course. Today is pretty much my last day to do nothing, and it's almost at an end.

I pull out of our street and make it no further than two blocks before I notice someone familiar walking in the rain, not even a hoodie or a beanie on his head. He must be freezing.

"Hey neighbour," I slow down my car just enough to match his walking pace, which is surprisingly pretty fast. "Need a ride?"

He stares at me for a second, contemplating.

"I'm not going to kidnap you, I swear."

I see a twitch of his lips, but he doesn't smile. Instead, he opens the back door of the car, throws in his luggage bag and climbs in. Strange man.

"You don't want to sit in the front?"

"No." He clears his throat. "I'm, uh, fine here."

"Um, okay," I nod awkwardly. "Where to?"

"There's a warehouse down the road from the main shopping mall. I'd, uh, like to be dropped off there."

"Right," I exhale. "What's your name again?"

Looking through the mirror, I notice that for the first time since I met him, he smirked. "You don't remember?"

"I don't recall ever asking for your name," I snap, slightly annoyed at his teasing.

"Mister J?" He chuckles.

Oh god. It's coming back to me now.

I opened the door to my apartment when I got home late last night, a tipsy Pam by my side. Noticing our blonde neighbour checking his mail by the wall, we quietly walked over, giggling and shushing each other. As Pam checks our mail box, I noticed the letter he picked up reads "J. Napier." On the front.

I hadn't realised I read it allowed until he looked at me with a blank stare.

John? Jake? Joel? I had no idea but I was so curious as to what his name was.

"Hey, what's your -"

"I got our mail, Harleen." Pam called as she walked up the stairs. "Hurry it up!"

Following her quickly, I waved back at him. "Bye Mister J."

"So," I sigh as I park on the street outside of the dilapidated warehouse. Man, this place is creepy. "What is your name?"

He opens the door and steps out of my car, tugging his luggage along with him. "Jack," he says as he slams the door shut, mock saluting me as he walks backward toward the warehouse. He mouths the word "thanks" to me before turning back around. This has got to be the weirdest day I've had in Gotham to date. But at least I finally got his name.


	4. Chapter 4

I thought I had experienced every weird person Gotham had to offer since I moved here. I was very, very wrong. You'd be surprised how many creeps there were hanging around coffee shops.

"Aye, yo. You got any more sugar, sugar?" I hear one of them call out. He is chewing on a toothpick and raising his eyebrows suggestively. Gross.

I glance at the clock. Thirty more seconds and I'm outta here! I dump the bowl of sugar in front of his smug face before beginning to walk away. Twenty five, twenty four, twenty three.

"HARLEEN!" My boss calls. "What did I say about treating the customers with respect? It's your first day on the job, don't let it be your last!"

This is ridiculous, I should quit right here, right now. I don't belong here, I think too myself. The more rational side of my brain tells me, don't you dare quit now, Harleen. You've found a job, if you want to stay in Gotham you have to keep it!

Seven, six, five. That's it! Three more seconds and my shift is over!

"Sorry, Mr Adams," I say. "Sincerely, I am. I will try better next time. Bye!"

As I walk out of the cafe's glass door, I exhale the loudest I have ever exhaled. If I ever end up in hell, it would be no worse than an eight hour shift at Love Mugs. Yes, that's the name of the coffee house I work. Embarrassing, I know. No one wants to say "I work at Love Mugs for a living", but I suppose I have to.

I barely open front door of the apartment before Pamela embraces me in a tight hug, sobbing.

"Whats all this?" I ask.

"You haven't seen the news? Oh, it's awful! Go sit down and watch, I'll make you some tea!"

I reluctantly sit down on the couch, grabbing the TV remote and turning the volume up.

"Witnesses claim all criminals but one were killed as they turned on each other," one of the hosts of the news station claimed.

"See, that's what the Joker does, Michelle," the second host, an older man, explains. "He plays mind games. Cat and mouse mind games. He lures them in with promises of wealth and power and they end up in the cheese trap that is death."

Did... Did he just relate the Joker to a cat? Since when can cats catch mice with food traps?

"Isn't it terrible?" Pam cries from the kitchen. "That bank is only about four blocks away from us. Those poor hostages! They must have been terrified."

"Oh, definitely," I agree. In all honesty I have no idea what's going on. I really should start reading Gotham Times and keep up with all this villainous drama.

She shakes her head at me. "You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"

I silently shake my head. "Is this to do with that creepy man in purple and green?"

"Yes! God, Harley, don't you see? He's killing people!" She wipes her bloodshot eyes with a tissue. "And we saw him just a few nights ago! He is so close to us, what if we get hurt? Oh, Harley, I'm so scared!"

"Pam, don't worry about it." I hug her as she cries into my shoulder. "I'm sure the Joker is not interested in us, broke, boring college students. He's out fighting the Batman and robbing banks. We are totally safe!"

"I suppose you're right," she giggles. "I'm just being silly. We'll be fine?" That last sentence sounded like a question, but I know she's just trying to convince herself. I nod as she looks at me for reassurance. "We will be totally, completely, 100% fine, Red. Don't you worry."

As I continue to hug her, my eyes catch a small note atop the almost empty kitchen counter. Scratch that, it looks like something from a deck of cards. Pam notices my focused gaze as she lets go of me.

"What's up, Harls?" She asks, an eyebrow raised in suspicion as she slowly turns her head towards the kitchen. "What's that?" She seems to whisper, to herself more so than me, as she creeps toward it.

Pam picks it up casually, suspicions having disappeared. She inspects it between her two fingers and I suddenly notice it's a Joker card. I feel the blood drain from my face and my hairs stand on end as I realise that, if not Pam or I, someone... Perhaps something, had managed to put this inside our apartment. And it most certainly wasn't me.

"This yours?" She points it at me.

I try to answer, I really do. I open my mouth but nothing comes up. For the first time in a while, I'm tongue tied, unable to construct a simple sentence or even a word.

That night I lay awake in my bed. Usually at night I'll fall asleep as soon as my exhausted head hits the pillow, but tonight is different. I can't tell you how many sheep I've counted, but it has to be in the hundreds. I don't know what it is, but my mind is racing like crazy.

I think all the events from the past week are finally catching up to me. You know how sometimes it could take hours, or even days or weeks, for your brain to take in the severity of a situation? It really happened. I witnessed a fist fight between the two most infamous figures in Gotham, I met a billionaire and someone may have broken into our apartment. At this stage, life is beginning to feel more like a strange dream than anyone else.

This is reality. This crazy city I ended up in, all it's quirks and mishaps, it's ridiculous criminals and whatnot. It's real, it's here, and there's nothing I can do except try to stay out of its way at all costs. Somehow, I think that is much easier said than done.


	5. Chapter 5

The combination of being way too overtired, slightly tipsy and the noises from the apartment above, have severely impacted my sleep over the last few hours.

I glance at the digital clock on my bedside table, reading 4:04am. What kind of party continues on this late in the morning? Honestly, my neighbours should learn a thing or two from Bruce Wayne. That man knows how to throw a party. Too bad I got way too drunk and made it awkward for everyone.

By this rate I won't even get a wink of sleep before my alarm goes off at 6:30am.

I cover my ears with the pillow and attempt to force myself to fall asleep. At least an hour or two, I plead to myself. I can't show up to work exhausted again.

The thing is, over the past few days I've been having a really strange dream. A repetitive dream. I've never had one like it before, it's so... Vivid. Each time I have the dream it's the same, but slightly different. Maybe a different setting or time of day or I'm wearing different shoes, but the main plot is basically the same. I'm speaking to someone. I'm not sure who exactly I'm speaking to or what they're saying, but I know how I react. Now, when I said the dreams were vivid, I didn't mean visually. It's the pure and distinct emotions I feel when I'm having the dream that makes it so real. I'm feeling shocked, scared, betrayed, confused, you name it. And another thing I forgot to mention... The person is wearing clown makeup. Like a circus clown. And at the end, here's the worst part. He laughs. Not a regular laugh. Sometimes it's a menacing, throaty chuckle and other times it's a creepy, excited giggle. Fucking terrifyingly, I know.

In a way, I'm glad I'm not able to sleep tonight. I'm dreading the next dream.

I glance at the Joker card on my bedside table. "It's all YOUR FAULT!" I want to scream at it. But I don't, it's more like a whisper.

Since Pam found it, it's just been sitting there next to my bed, neither of us knowing what to do with it. Or, where it came from, for that matter.

My mind wanders back to last week, to the night Pam and I saw the joker in the flesh, and I wonder whether my card and the colourful villain have a link. After all, the harlequin style of the joker on the small playing card is an obvious play on my name. Harleen Quinzel. Or, Harley Quinn, as Pam loves to call me. I really do hope that it's just Pam playing a twisted joke on me, but I know deep down that she wouldn't let a joke keep going for a few hours, let alone a few days.

If the Joker knew us, knew where we live... I don't know what we would do. We can't move, this is the only apartment we can afford. How could he know where we live anyway? I mean, we saw him. He didn't see us... Right?

I hear a soft knock on the door, breaking me from my thoughts. I'm not sure if I should be thankful or annoyed at the distraction.

"Come in," I croak out, and within a split second the door is already wide open, a nervous looking Pam fidgeting with her fingers.

"I'm freaking out, Harls," she sits on the edge of my bed. "My first shift is tomorrow. I mean... Today..." She silently stares at my clock. "The party upstairs is driving me nuts!"

"Do you want me to go talk to them, Red?" I ask softly.

"Oh, will you?" She hugs me tight. "Thanks Harleen, you're the best! Honestly, I would come with you, but I'm a little bit scared of... You know, Scarface upstairs."

"How do you know it's him?" I question her as I tie my dressing gown around my body.

"You're right, he doesn't seem the type to party. It must be..." She pauses, mouth agape. "Wait a minute, why weren't WE invited to this party?"

I grin at her as I head towards our front door. "Maybe it's because we're too scared to talk to our neighbours?"

Surprise surprise, as I reach the floor above I discover it's not my scarred neighbours apartment blasting terrible dub step music, but the apartment opposite.

I barely even knock three times before the door is pulled open with such force that I almost tumble to the floor.

"Come to join the party?" A drunken man asks me.

"I actually came to ask if you would please turn the music down, as my roommate and I have work in a few hours," I politely explain, receiving a door in my face.

"Uh, nice try, sweetheart," I hear a gravely voice behind me that I instantly recognise.

Turning around, I'm met with exactly who I expected. "I suppose you can't sleep either?"

Ignoring me, he walks straight past me and pounds his fists on the door with so much force that I'm afraid he'll knock the door down. "Turn off the fucking music," he screams into the door.

In a matter of five seconds, the music is completely gone. Silence, oh how I have longed for silence all night. Hopefully I'll be at least half awake for work.

"Thanks, Mr J. I mean, Jack. Can I call you Jack?"

"Why not?" He smirks before opening his front door and stepping inside his dark apartment and softly chuckling, creepily. "Uh, goodnight. Harley Quinn."

I walk back down the stairs to my floor before pausing in confusion. I don't remember giving him my name. And I definitely don't remember giving him my nickname.


	6. Chapter 6

"And that is why we have to embrace both the conscious and subconscious mind in order to access the root of unusual thoughts and behaviour."

How interesting, I think to myself, my eyes skimming across the syllabus I had been given. I admit, I was really nervous to study psychology, but now I know for sure that this is what I'm meant to be learning

"That is all for today's lesson. I'll be seeing you all tomorrow afternoon as we discuss personality disorders and methodology."

As I walk out of the lecture hall and into the stoned pathway outside, I manage to bump into someone. Hard. The notebook clutched tightly to my chest is flung at least six feet away.

"Watch it, bimbo," a tall woman hisses at me, her voice full of venom. She barely gives me a second glance as she walks past me, boots tapping the sight walk with every step. Honestly, I would be completely offended if she didn't have the sexiest voice I've ever heard.

As I'm left with my jaw slightly ajar, Miss Bitch turns back for a second. She states with a large smirk, "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?", before walking away for a second time.

What the hell was that?

And if that wasn't the start of a very interesting day...

So, by this point, I'm absolutely exhausted. I don't know why. Maybe it's from the lectures or extra hours at work, but I NEED coffee. Immediately.

After a few weeks in the city, Pam quickly figured out the best place to buy coffee is at a little cafe in a narrow side street a few blocks from our apartment, called La Petit Fille. I'm not usually a coffee drinker (at least, I don't drink as much coffee as Pam), but I could really use the caffeine right about now.

As I receive my coffee, I contemplate walking home and drinking it in my humble abode. But, 1) it's raining, and 2) I feel as though I will pass out if I walk further than two blocks. So, not a good idea. Instead, I sit in a small empty booth in the corner.

Reading the name on my coffee cup,8 groan. Marley? Really? Do I look like a Labrador or something? Is it because of the hair?

Not long after I take my first sip, I hear someone speak to me.

"Is this, uh, seat taken?" A familiar tall blonde sits opposite me.

"You're stalking me." It was supposed to come out as a question, but ended up more like a statement. Or, rather, a bitter accusation.

"You know, uh." Jack glances toward his own cup of coffee with his dark, menacing eyes, and then back at me. "I could say the same about you. You seem to, uhh, pop up everywhere I go."

Weirdly enough, I can't tell if it's supposed to be a joke or a threat. This man is ridiculously hard to read.

The funny thing about all this, is that I'm actually having a pretty interesting conversation with him. The man I once thought was the cold, silent type is suddenly opening up to me.

Twenty minutes later, I find myself laughing at one of his stories.

"No way!" I laugh. "That didn't happen! I don't believe you."

"Oh, it did," he says to me slowly. "Don't think I care if you believe me, Miss Quinzel. I have plenty more, uh... unbelievable stories to share."

It's about an hour later before I decide to head home.

"Well, my roommate is probably wondering where I am," I tell him as I pick up my handbag. "I should probably get going."

"Isn't it boring?" He asks me as I stand up.

"Is what boring?"

"Oh, you know," he looks up at me and smirks. "Living your whole life, doing what you should, instead of what you could."

What is that supposed to mean?

"Well, I really should be going. Goodbye, Jack."

"Catch you later, Harley Quinn."

"Hey, hey! Harley! Harley! Haarrleeyyy!"

The noise echoes in my head.

As I peel my eyelids open, I see two blurry hands on my shoulders.

"Wake up, Harleen! For gods sakes!"

My eyes come into focus as I see Pam look down at me with pure excitement in her eyes.

"What?" I sit up within one second, swinging my legs over the couch. I was really enjoying my cat nap...

"Is this an emergency? Did someone die!"

She shoves my playfully, "No, Harley! Of course not! How was your first day of university? Tell me everything!"

So, I told her everything. My boring old lecturer, how keen I am for the rest of the semester and the strange yet sexy brunette.

"She sounds like a total bitch," Pam shakes her head.

"Oh, she is! I hope to god I never see her again."

"Did you get her name, at least?"

"No. Should I have?"

Pam looks at me like I've just committed a crime. "Um, yes! I wanna Facebook stalk the hell out this bitch."

"Well, ugh," I bite my lip, "she looked like a, uh, Beth, maybe? No, wait! She definitely looked like a Nina. Or maybe a Sasha."

Pam scrolls through her phone, obviously searching the names online. "None of the Nina's and Sasha's in Gotham look bitchy... or sexy. You sure she wasn't a ghost?" Pam chuckles.

"I'm serious, Pam," I can't help but stifle laughter as she walks into the kitchen to heat up some popcorn.

I look out the window. It's almost pitch black except for the odd lightning bolt. I got home from my lecture at 2pm. I couldn't have slept until night time?

For some odd reason, my mind wanders to the joker card we found in the kitchen last week.

"Hey, Pam?"

"Yeah, blondie?"

I pause, not really sure where to start. "We never really spoke about that joker card."

She poked her head into the living room, face suddenly pale and expressionless. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she begins to speak. Did I say speak? More like, stutter over her own words. "See, uhh, that's the thing." She walks over and sits down next to me, her hands in her lap and her eyes cast down towards the floor. Finally looking up at me, she almost whispers, "I think I know where it came from."

"Yeah, I know, Pam. It's from the Joker. It has to be."

"No Harls..." She shakes her head. "I don't think so. I think it's from..." She gestures towards the roof.

"Who? Upstairs neighbour?" I tilt my head, unsure of what she is referencing.

She nods, eyes wide with what looks like a mixture of enthusiasm and fear.

"I'm not joking Harls. You don't think it's a coincidence that we see the Joker in this very neighbourhood and within a few days receive a joker card in our apartment? Tell me, how many people have you met in this city so far? How many know where you live?"

I open my mouth but I can't seem to find the right words to reply.

"Think about it, Harleen Quinzel."

I feel my stomach drop as if I'm on a roller coaster. Pam only ever calls me my full name when she's playing around or dead serious.

"You think... The Joker and Jack -"

"Oh god, Harleen." She shakes her head as she cuts me off. "You know his name? What else haven't you told me?"

I ignore her. "You think they know each other?"

"I think it's more than that, Harley." The look in her eyes says all I need to know. "I think they're working together. He's one of his men. It's a wonder he hasn't been offed yet."

"Offed?"

"Yeah, you know. Killed. He's working for a sociopathic serial killer, hello!"

I nod. "Okay, okay. If this is true, what do we do about it."

"You know what to do, Harley. Stay away from him. He's bad news, he's trouble. Don't get yourself involved with him. I mean, Jesus, you're already on first name basis. Don't dig yourself a hole you can't climb out of, Harleen. You'll regret it."


	7. Chapter 7

What Pam said to me last night has been on my mind all morning. I found it extremely hard to focus at my lecture today. God, help me during my eleven hour shift tomorrow.

I think back to what the professor said.

"This specific anti-social personality disorder, sociopathy, is characterised by a lack of social skills and level of morality. Often these traumatised souls end up developing into criminals."

During that whole lecture, I couldn't stop thinking about that darn Joker. Towards the end, I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up and left, not looking back once. Sure, my education is important, but right at that moment I needed to sit against a cold wall and close my eyes. I mean, is it really that weird?

So, here I am. Head leaning back against the wall next to the front door of the apartment, eyes closed and legs crossed. Problem is, if I walk in there right now, Pam is going to bombard me with questions about why I'm back so early. So, my big plan? Sit outside the door and wait another twenty five minutes. It'll fly by in a flash, I assure myself.

"Uh, hey there."

I open my eyes. Oh god. Oh no. I was supposed to stay away from this guy. Not good, Harley. Not good.

"Um. Hi."

He stares at me. I think he's expecting me to say something else, but before I can, his scarred lips twist in a sort of weird smirk, one that I can't quite read.

"You okay out here?"

"I'm fine," I tell him harshly. "I'm fine."

"Well, alright, if you say so."

I notice something strange on his contorted, chapped lips. Is that... traces of... lipstick?

"You have, uhh, a little something on your lips," I tell him quietly.

He licks his lips as he glanced at the wall above me. "Ah, you know, got a little too frisky with the ladies last night," he says, before slowly chuckling.

I nod, not sure what to say or do now. If that wasn't the most awkward conversation I've ever had, I don't know what is.

My eyes drift towards his forehead. I feel my eyebrows furrow as I see some left over remnants of black on the wrinkles surrounding his dark eyes, dry and cracked.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh god.

I slowly stand up, my back still against the wall.

It's sinking in.

This can't be happening.

Is he?

No. Can't be. Not possible.

I should make a run for it. I need to. Why am I still standing here?

Before I can stop myself, my stupid mouth opens. "Who are you?"

He grins a grin that I have never seen on him - or anyone - before. He steps closer to me, and I can practically feel his breath on my face as his demeanour suddenly changes. This... this is not the Jack I spoke to for over an hour at a cafe yesterday evening. This person is different.

"It's not a matter of who am I. You don't care who I am, Miss Quinzel. You want to know, what am I?"

His voice seems to echo the corridor as his hand snaked it way from my collarbone to my throat. "So, Miss Quinzel, what do you think I am?"

I don't know how to answer.

His eyes grow darker and his hold tighter as he hisses. "What do you think I am?"

"Crazy," I spit back at him.

He releases me immediately, and that's when I realise he has had a knife in his hand the whole time. My stomach drops as if i have just fallen ten storeys off a building. He points it at me, declaring, "I like you, Harleen. I like you. You're..."

He glanced at the roof and waves his knife around, looking for an answer. "Timid. You're timid. Like a little lost mouse that thinks it's a lion. Do you wanna know how I got these scars, Harleen?"

He stares into my eyes with an expression I can't really pinpoint. At this stage, I couldn't care less about his backstory. I just want him to leave me alone.

Before I can say yes or no, or perhaps another time. He starts his story.

"I had a wife. She was... so, beautiful. Like you. Blonde hair, blue eyes, the whole package. She was so timid. She went along with everything I said. Even if she didn't agree with me. She just wanted me to be happy. But I wasn't happy. I didn't appreciate her like I should've. That's what's wrong with you timid women. You don't show people what you're actually worth. You just... settle. And agree. And... accept."

I have no idea what this has to do with me. But what else can I do besides listen to the man waving a knife around in my face.

Almost immediately, his persona changes.

"She. Died! She's dead! Forever. All because I didn't appreciate her. You know who killed her? Take a, uhh, wild guess."

"I-I don't kn-"

"Guess!"

"The mafia? Mobsters?"

He almost cackles. "No! You would think so. The cops. Fucking corrupt cops killed my pregnant wife. For insurance money. You think it's easy to move on from that? It's not. Don't think for a second I haven't tried. But you know what's even better than moving on?"

I shake my head, mentally praying that I make it out of this conversation in one piece.

He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and, after chuckling, whispers, "vengeance".

That's the last word I hear before my head is slammed against the wall and my consciousness disappears.

The next thing I remember is waking up with my eyes still closed, feeling a cold, wet towel on my forehead and my back contorted in an uncomfortable position.

As my eyes begin to flutter open, I notice I'm laying on my back on my own couch.

"Oh, Harley!" Pam cries as she sits next to me and clutched my hand. "Thank god, you're alright. I found you unconscious outside the door. I tried everything to get you to wake up, I was just about to call an ambulance."

I'm listening to her as best I can, but I'm finding it hard to process what she's saying. "What... happened?" I ask as I clutch my sore head and slowly sit up.

"I'm not sure, I was hoping you could tell me. I heard a loud bang outside in the hall, and when I went to investigate I found you! I thought you were hurt, Harls!"

"Thanks for you concern, Red, but I'm more worried about something else at the moment."

She looks at me with disbelief, but doesn't question it. "What is it?"

"Could you turn on the TV, please?"

A news lady is on the television, speaking about the Joker, not surprisingly. "Once again, the Joker has attacked an event, taking hostage multiple policemen, injuring and killing at least fifteen civilians and kidnapping vulnerable mentally ill patients from Arkham Asylum. I think Gotham can all agree this terrorist has ruined what should have been a delightful parade, causing nothing but unnecessary pain and chaos."

Having enough, I grab the remote out of Pam's hand and turn it off.

She glares at me, suspiciously. "You know something I don't," she softly accuses.

"I do." I nod. "But I think you already knew."

She shakes her head in disbelief, crossing her arms as she glances back up at me. "It's him isn't it?"

"I think so, Red. I think so..."


End file.
